Red
by breakingpxint
Summary: <html><head></head>(When Little Red went to see her grandmother, she wasn't expecting to meet a wolf.) Mia Kurosawa's grandmother was dying, and in spite of the memories she'd rather leave behind, Mia returned to Japan for what might have been the last time. Of all of the things she had been prepared for, Mia hadn't quite expected to be pulled into the power struggle between SHIELD and HYDRA.</html>
1. Chapter 1

Red

chapter one

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><p><em>"...but instead, adventure found me."<em>

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><p>Her eyes opened to the constant hum of the train and quiet, idle chatter of other passengers. It smelled like lunchtime, a menagerie of strong coffee and the slight, vinegar-y odour of sushi rice. For a moment, she wondered if it'd be a good idea to grab lunch while the carts were still making their way down the aisle, but decided against it. Her flight to Tokyo had been long and uncomfortable, exhaustion forcing her appetite away. The only thing Mia Kurosawa was interested in, in all honesty, was more sleep.<p>

Her eyelids fluttered shut only for a moment before she forced them wide open. A loud screech resounded throughout the train, and she grimaced. At first, Mia thought the train was suddenly braking, but she hadn't felt any kind of lurch, no rapid deceleration.

It quickly became obvious that the screech was human, and it was followed by others. People shouted, cried, and Mia shifted to the seat beside her, craning her neck to assess the situation. People were scrambling away from the back of their car, cramming themselves into the spaces between seats. It was no wonder; three men stood in front of the door leading to the car behind them, clad in ill-fitting military surplus clothes, armed with serious-looking assault rifles.

They began barking out orders in Japanese, but through the noise of the panic and the drumming of her own heartbeat in her ears, Mia only managed to catch a fragment of a phrase: _everyone shut the fuck up. _

That's not happening any time soon.

The hijackers seemed to realize that, and one of them turned his gun towards one of the windows. He fired two shots, shattering the glass. The noises stopped, although Mia still heard a terrified whimper or two.

"_We're here for someone specific. If she hands herself over, no one gets hurt."_ The announcement was made in complete monotone, but the voice itself was harsh and alluded to violence. Mia saw several people look around, wary, hoping that whomever the hijacker was talking about would be heroic enough to step up. No one did.

A long stretch of silence passed, and when no one moved, the hijacker who spoke twisted his lips into a snarl. "_No? You're not brave enough to turn yourself in? That's a shame._" He made a grab for the nearest person–a little boy huddling in his mother's arms.

He screamed, throwing pathetic punches that didn't even reach the man. His mother cried out, reaching for him and pleading. Mia felt her gut twist, and her hands closed around the armrest, knuckles turning white.

One of the other men turned his gun towards the boy, pressing the muzzle against the skull. The kid–no more than seven, if Mia had to guess, started crying, trying so desperately to fight his way out of the man's grasp. His mother's sobs only became louder.

Mia took a moment to scan a crowd–who were they looking for? Though she wasn't in a good position to see every passenger, no one seemed like they knew what the hell was going on. Granted, if the woman they were looking for _was_ trying to hide, she would have no problems fitting right in with the terrified passengers.

"_I'm giving you the count of three…_" The man spoke slowly, menace finally colouring that toneless voice. "_One…."_ The mother choked out a sob, the child's crying became screaming.

"_Two…"_ Mia turned away, knowing she shouldn't, but also knowing she couldn't watch a seven year old get shot in the head.

_Three_, never came. The door at the other end of the train, the one leading to the car in front of theirs, swung open, a man stepping through. His face was veiled in the shadow from his cap, and his clothes–civilian–were just as ill-fitting as the hijackers' military wear. One of the hijackers swore and began shooting.

The screams erupted again, people diving beneath their seats to get out of the way. The man in the cap seemed barely fazed, running and leaping through the aisles and over seats towards the shooter. In seconds, he'd reached the hijackers, left hand closed around the muzzle of the rifle. Mia's eyes widened when she saw the metal bend, twisting and turning the gun into little more than a cumbersome bludgeon.

Seeing that his gun could no longer shoot, the hijacker seemed to think that a bludgeon was exactly what its new purpose should be. He wrenched the weapon away just as the cap-man was letting go, attempting a swing at his adversary's head. Cap-man dodged, grabbed hold of the hijacker's arm, and threw him across the car. He smashed into the door that cap-man had used to enter, leaving a large dent where he'd hit.

_What the hell is he?_ No human could possess that sort of strength

Mia didn't have much time to think, though. The other hijackers were retreating, taking the child with them. The cap-man gave chase, but Mia wasn't sure if he really cared for the welfare of the little boy, if he'd mind at all that the seven year old became collateral damage. Her eyes swept back to the third hijacker, crumpled and motionless by the other door.

Sucking in huge breath, Mia stood from her seat, walking down the aisle and ignoring how unsteady her stride was, how her legs felt like jelly. She dropped to her knees beside the man, and she could feel the stares of the other passengers, hear the pitiful cries of the young mother at the other end of the car. Swallowing her fear, Mia reached a hand out, pressing her index and middle fingers to a spot just below the man's jawline.

No pulse.

She supposed that was a relief, but Mia didn't feel very relieved. Hesitantly, she turned her gaze to his attire–surely, he had more than just a rifle on him. She spotted a handgun, some devices she couldn't quite identify, and a large, scary-looking knife. Mia went with the knife.

She managed to detach the sheath from his utility belt, and closing her fingers around the entire thing, took off in the other direction, pausing only when she reached the mother.

"_I'm going to try to get your son back, okay?"_ she said, trying to sound as reassuring as she could. The woman looked up to her, and it looked like she was trying to decide on how to react.

"_Are you the one they were looking for?_" There was just a smidge of accusation in her voice, though Mia couldn't blame her.

"_No. I don't know who they're looking for. But if she's not going to do anything…I will._" She left after giving the woman a small and hopefully reassuring smile.

The next car was eerily empty, without a single sign of any passenger. No garbage from lunch time, no personal items left on the seats, no bags. She was _certain_ that people had gotten on in the car in front of theirs, though she had to admit that she wasn't paying that the utmost attention when she'd boarded herself. Mia had still been exhausted from her flight.

As quietly as she could, Mia treaded down the aisle, scanning the seats as if someone could be hiding in them. When she reached the end of the car, though, no one had shot at her, or jumped out at her. It seemed that the car truly was empty, and the thought didn't make Mia feel any better. Her heart continued pounding, the sound a steady drum beat against her skull.

Gingerly, Mia turned the door handle, grimacing when she heard banging and muffled yelling from the next car when she stepped onto the platform in between. When she opened the second door, she tumbled through, ducking immediately behind the nearest seat. A knife sailed over her head as she did, clattering and likely shattering the small window in the door. One of the hijackers was engaged in serious combat with the cap-man, who was no longer wearing a cap. His chin-length hair still covered most of his features, but Mia caught a brief glance of blue eyes, stubble, and a ferocity that assured her he wasn't planning to lose.

The remaining hijacker still had his gun pointed at the little boy.

It seemed like they'd momentarily forgot that she'd arrived, and Mia planned on using that to her advantage. Keeping low, she slinked through the seats, remaining silent although the noise of the fight would have covered any sounds she made, anyway.

The journey was a long one, made with bated breath. Mia had to stop every once in a while, whenever the cap-man and the hijacker came up a little too close. She had to formulate a plan while trying to avoid being detected, and even for someone as good at multi-tasking as she was, that was quite a feat.

In the end, she knew she was going to have to cause some bodily harm, and only hoped she was fast enough to prevent the little boy from getting shot. With his eyes on the fight, the man keeping the boy captive didn't even notice Mia as she snuck up beside him.

Her hands suddenly felt numb and the knife felt slippery in her grip. She'd gotten it out of its sheath just a moment ago, the leather contraption lying at her feet as she shifted her gaze between the captor and the fight. Hoping with everything she's got that her timing was good, Mia leapt up, slamming the blade into the man. The blade pushed through the skin and flesh on the junction between the man's neck and shoulder, and he howled, instinctively turning around and forgetting the boy.

Bracing herself, Mia closed her hand into a fist, tucking her thumb beneath her fingers instead of on top–something she'd read about, though she couldn't remember where and when, or even why–and punched him, miraculously hitting his nose. She could feel the cartilage shift and shatter, and as his hands came up to cover it, Mia quite savagely wrenched the knife out of the man's shoulder, and ducked to pull the boy away, pushing him behind her.

She was fast, but not fast enough to react to the other hijacker, who'd heard his buddy cry out in pain. She looked up to see a gun pointed at her, saw the man's finger close around the trigger. Mia heard the gunshot, too, had just enough time to close her eyes–

But the bullet never came.

Instead, she heard it ricochet, a strange sound that was simultaneously dull and sharp. Her eyes opened, and cap-man had gotten himself between the gun and Mia, holding up an arm. Somewhere in the middle of her raging heartbeat and the fear that snaked up her spine, Mia wondered, _what happened to the shot?_ The man certainly didn't look like he'd been shot, but she didn't see anything that could have _deflected a bullet_.

Well, until cap-man swing his left arm. It was such a brief glance, and Mia did not exactly have the best viewing angle, but she saw something glint off his arm beneath the fabric of his jacket. Something metal, maybe? She had no idea, nor did she have any time to think. The man she'd stabbed had crumpled in a heap across from her, barely conscious from the blood loss. She didn't severe a major artery, but it was clear that she'd managed to do just enough damage and severe enough vessels that he was bleeding out, fast.

There was a dull, sick feeling from the thought that she'd be his killer, though the man was not yet dead.

Mia didn't really have the time or energy to think about that for too long, though.

The remaining hijacker and cap-man were fighting once again, moving away from Mia, towards the back end of the car. It occurred to her that cap-man might be _leading_ the fight away from them, but she dismissed it quickly. Cap-man threw a punch, and it landed hard on the man's face. He was thrown down the aisle, landing just a metre in front of the back door. Gritting his teeth, the man tore the door open, disappearing not into the car behind them but _up_. Cap-man went after him, leaving Mia with a barely-conscious hijacker and a little boy too scared to cry.

She opted to ignore the hijacker, standing up and gently tugging the little boy down the aisle. "_Let's see if your mom's okay, ne?"_ she told him, softening her voice. Mia paused when she opened the door, but no one came toward her, and she hurried through the car behind them, pausing before they reached the car full of passengers.

She peered through the small window, relieved to see the passengers, though still looking terrified, alive. Tentatively, she opened the door, pulling the little boy along still.

The mother was the first to move, a cry of relief shaking her petite body as she pulled her son toward her. A shocked moment of silence followed, then the passengers erupted into cheers and questions. A few people approached Mia, clapping her on the shoulder like she was a hero. Others shouted questions at her, some accusing and others still scared.

"_I don't know,"_ Mia answered, again and again, raising her voice over the noise. "_I don't know what's going on!"_

She suddenly felt very tired, as if she'd actually exerted herself. Mia knew that her mind was catching up with everything that's happened, and it was overwhelming. The train had been hijacked; a little boy was taken hostage. Mia likely killed a man, and two men were still fighting, somewhere above them.

One of those men saved her life.

At least, she thought he did. Mia didn't know–she didn't know anything.

She just wanted to sit down, close her eyes, and hope that everything was done and there was a happy ending by the time she woke up. The crowd and her conscience and her curiosity stopped her from doing anything like that, though. What _was_ going on? Who was the woman those hijackers wanted–who were the hijackers, and the man in the cap?

Mia turned to look over her shoulder. What was happening on top of the train?

Something nagged at her to go, pushed her towards the door. Clearly, whatever it was, it wasn't her sense of self-preservation. "I need to help him," she murmured in English, not caring if anyone understood or even heard her. Stepping back from the people approaching her, Mia slipped behind the door, standing on the exposed platform between train cars. She looked at one of the railings, seeing scuff marks from someone's boot. Gritting her teeth, Mia grabbed hold of a metal bar beside the next train's door, planted one sneaker-clad foot on the railing, and hoisted herself up.

She remained crouching, almost crawling along the top of the train car in an attempt to keep her center of gravity as low as possible. Flying off the top of a moving train didn't seem particularly appealing.

Mia didn't have to search very long for cap-man and the last (or so she hoped) hijacker; they were still going at it at the other end of the train car. She crept along, trying to get closer while wondering what it was she was planning to do.

The hijacker's back was to her, and as she neared, cap-man shot her a glance. She finally got a good look at his face; young, pretty handsome though unkempt, with striking blue eyes, strong nose and thin, recurve-bow shaped lips. His expression was neutral, though Mia swore she saw his one brow lift slightly in surprise.

His attention returned to the fight, which was probably a good idea–but that rendered him slightly oblivious to the second man–so much for _last_ hijacker–sneaking up behind him. Mia saw the top of someone's head bob up from the other end of the car, and she called out a warning before she even realized she did.

Cap-man ducked beneath a punch, rolling over and striking out with a leg to deal with the man behind him. Mia quickened her pace now, moving in a crawl-run towards them. The hijackers had seen her, but evidently, cap-man was a bigger threat, and no one even spared her a second glance as she closed the distance. The knife gripped firmly in her hand, Mia swung her arm, the blade ripping across the hijacker's calf and tearing through his pant leg and flesh. She heard an awful growl, and he swung toward her.

Eyes wide, Mia stumbled backwards as he lunged, but his balance had been compromised thanks to her knife, and he fell short. Tightening her jaw, Mia shifted her legs in front of her, kicking both of them out. The impact reverberated up both legs, and Mia grimaced, sliding backwards to put some distance between her and the hijacker.

The man only took a moment to recover before coming toward her again, towering over her as Mia, quite pathetically, continued to shuffle back on her butt. When he lunged at her again, Mia rolled to the left. She felt a hand close around her ankle and she was yanked back.

Her hands scrabbled for purchase on the metallic train roof, but the momentum of the train was working in her attacker's favor. She skittered across the roof, twisting to avoid having her head stomped on by what was likely steel-toed boots. Desperate, now, Mia swung her knife arm again, trying to catch her assailant's shin this time. Apparently expecting the move, he swatted her hand, the knife flying out of her grip and tumbling off the side of the train.

The man snarled at her, though from Mia's position, it looked more like a predatory grin. Hand still around her ankle, the man pulled Mia towards him, and she saw him reaching behind his back, probably for a weapon. She kicked and twisted and did everything she could to get out of his way, but his grip was like a vice and–

An arm wrapped around the hijacker's throat, pulling him back. He released Mia's leg, arms flying up to fight off cap-man, who'd apparently dealt with the other attacker already. Breathing hard, Mia inched backwards, trying to ignore the pain in her ankle. Cap-man and hijacker were fighting again, their movement too fast for Mia to follow. She took the opportunity to catch her breath, though there was little she could do for her the rapid and thunderous thumping of her heart.

The two men were grappling each other now, teetering dangerously close to the edge of the train. Mia's breath caught in her throat, and she watched as they skimmed the edge, twisting and turning like they were in some bizarre and violent dance. Then–cap-man managed to maneuver their bodies so that the hijacker was closer to the edge, and he swept his leg against the hijacker's, forcing him to lose balance and slip–off the train.

The hijacker still had a firm grip on cap-man's jacket, though, and the combination of their respective weight and the movement of the train, cap-man went over, too.

Eyes opened wide enough for her eyeballs to pop out, Mia scrambled over to where they'd fallen, ignoring the dull ache in her right leg. She peered over the edge; the hijacker was gone, and cap-man was hanging on the side of the train, his gloved hand _digging in_ to the metal. She remembered the way he'd killed a man by simply throwing him, denting a metal door in the process. Wherever that strength came from (probably the glint of metal she'd previously seen), it was keeping him from flying off the train and into the brambles. Mia didn't know if he was superhuman, too, but she suspected that if the fall didn't kill him, he'd at least be severely injured.

She bit her lip, a moment's indecision hitting her. This was definitely _not_ something she wanted to be involved in–but wasn't she already? If not by going after the hijacker who'd taken the little boy, then certainly, coming up to the roof of the train meant she was in too far to just back away and return to her seat, now.

Clenching her jaw, Mia dropped to her knees, then lay flat on her stomach while reaching over the edge of the train. "Take my hand!" She hoped that the man was an English speaker–he was clearly not Japanese.

Cap-man hesitated, staring at her with an expression she couldn't identify. Then, just as she thought he was going to just let go, he reached up with his other hand. His fingers closed around her wrist, and Mia tightened her grip around his, gritting her teeth as she pulled him up.

"Holy fucking shit," she hissed, suddenly worried that he might just tear her arm out of its socket. Cap-man didn't look_ that_ heavy, but Mia didn't exactly have impressive physique, and by the time she'd pulled cap-man up (or, at least, helped pull him up, because she was pretty sure that he did most of the work, anyway), she was practically lying on the train roof, her arm more sore than it had ever been in the few occasions Mia had actually hit the gym.

During her recovery, Mia could feel eyes on her, and she furtively looked up. Cap-man was still on his hands and knees, but he was staring at her with such intensity, she almost shrunk back. "You saved my life, before," she blurted, though the man hadn't said anything. "It's only fair."

"You're naïve." His voice was rough, though Mia thought it was more from disuse than a natural huskiness. Despite every cell in her body screaming, _danger_, Mia frowned, feeling just a little indignant. Okay, so maybe it was _sort of_ true; while she might be fast, and she fancied herself quite clever, it wasn't the first time Mia threw away her sense of self-preservation in order to help someone she barely knew.

Out of the corner of her eyes, Mia saw someone at the other end of the train, the top of a head skimming just the edge, like before. Then, the face emerged, and she recognized it as the other hijacker, the one she'd thought cap-man had already _dealt with_ while she was occupied.

Her nerves were frayed, her body sore and exhausted, and her mind a maelstrom of horror and confusion and noise–but somehow, her instincts were still intact. Without even thinking about it, Mia reached forward, pulling a handgun out of its holster on cap-man's hip, and aimed. The shot bounced off the train's roof, though it was close enough to bring the hijacker to a momentary halt.

"You have awful aim." The voice came from somewhere close, and Mia felt the man's breath on her ear. He was reaching over her, taking the gun out of her hand and firing again, before the hijacker had a chance to climb back up. The bullet struck him in the shoulder, the force of it pushing him off balance. Mia tensed when she saw him fly backwards, hitting the wall of the train car behind this one before tumbling off the platform.

She'd almost forgotten how invasively close cap-man was to her until she felt him shift slightly. Mia turned to face him, only to find that his face was hovering almost directly above hers, staring at her like he was trying to solve a puzzle. "My aim isn't awful," she said, making an effort to hide the tremor in her voice–and failing. "I'd say I have exceptional aim for someone who's never touched a loaded gun before."

The man's brows shot up, and quite impossibly, he actually looked like he wanted to laugh. He caught himself in time, though, and his features rearranged again into that intense, passive expression.

When he didn't move, though, Mia had to clear her throat. "Do you, uh, mind….?" Perhaps the rush of the fight was subsiding, as Mia suddenly remembered that she _really_ did not like people being in her personal space.

Keeping a neutral expression, the man rose to move off of her, and Mia was about to slide away when she noticed–_of course, my luck is just __amazing__ today_–a tunnel, approaching fast. Apparently, the moment of reprieve hadn't taken the edge off of her, and she reacted quickly, unconsciously. One hand closed around the man's jacket, and she jerked her arm, pulling him down just as their section of the train entered the tunnel.

The darkness couldn't have lasted more than a few seconds, but it felt uncomfortably long for Mia, who could feel the heat off the man's body, hear his breaths against her ear, his heartbeat against her chest.

Finally, darkness gave way to sunlight again, and she unceremoniously pushed cap-man off her, careful not to send him tumbling off the train. He was on his feet in an instant, and looking down at her, his brows slightly furrowed. "Who are you?" If there was any innocent curiosity in that question, Mia didn't hear it. Though it still looked like he was trying to figure her out, there was a particular way the man was standing, the way his eyes bore into her; distrust.

"No one important," she answered, slowly as if still deliberating. It was a bit self-deprecating, but it was the truth, and probably the safest answer. "I was just trying to make sure that little boy didn't get hurt."

Mia made no effort to stand up, and the howl of the wind made it difficult to speak. Exhaustion hit her like a bullet train–a fitting simile, all things considered. Her legs felt weak, her eyes wanted to close. Still, she kept her gaze on the man, finally given the chance to look at him, assess.

"Who are _you?_" she asked, hoping she sounded a little more authoritative than tired and confused. Oh, she had her guesses, but her mind felt fried, heavy with exhaustion and buzzing with leftover terror.

A conflicted look flitted across his face, and for the briefest of moments, it looked like he was going to give her an answer, before deciding against it. He returned to staring at her for a moment, before finally deciding that she wasn't a threat. Without another word, he turned, heading towards the end of the train car.

Mia watched his retreating back for a second before realizing that she should probably get down, too. After all, her face was beginning to feel a bit sore from the rush of wind, and she had a feeling her hair was faring no better. Awkwardly, and admittedly a little relieved that cap-man wasn't there to watch her, Mia shuffled across the train roof, pausing every time the train shifted beneath her.

She _eventually_ reached the end, and a quick glance at the platform below confirmed what she'd previously thought; the man had moved on to whatever his next objective was. Mia should be relieved–maybe this whole mess was over–but really, she was just tired.

When she finally returned to her original train car, she was, once again, greeted with questions, none of which she could really answer. They pushed as closely to her as they could, questions rising into yelling, dissolving into smaller arguments between different passengers. Mia almost wished that she could just tell them _something_ to placate them, get them to shut up, but her body betrayed her, giving into exhaustion.

Silently, Mia pushed through the crowd, not acknowledging a single person. Almost absent-mindedly, Mia reached her seat, digging into her knapsack for her phone and earphones. As if her train ride hadn't been interrupted by hijackers, Mia plugged the earbuds in, curled up in her seat, and slipped into a deep sleep, effectively drowning out her fellow passengers with music.


	2. Chapter 2

Red

chapter two

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><p><em>"I feel as though I don't have the strength to cry."<em>

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><p>Three days since she'd arrived at her grandmother's house, and Mia still felt bizarrely disconnected. She'd only woken up when the train stopped, watching warily as passengers trickled out. She hadn't seen any police, military, reporters; absolutely no sign that the hijacking had actually happened. In fact, Mia would have thought it was another one of her bizarre, vivid dreams.<p>

Her days spent in her grandmother's house were quiet, idyllic, and it seemed like what happened on the train truly was a dream. She tended to her grandmother almost absent-mindedly, sometimes still wondering about the incident (and casually skimming over the fact that she may have killed a man), and other times, lost in reminiscence.

Her grandmother's house hardly changed since the last time she'd been here, which had been almost seven years ago. That was when her family had fallen apart, and Mia's childish selfishness kept her from seeing the only person she had still considered family.

"_Akane, you always look like your head is in the clouds,_" her grandmother called from her bed, her voice raspy and worn.

Looking up from her book—she'd been 'reading' the same page over and over since she'd picked it up—Mia smiled at the nickname. _Baa-san_ never called her by her English name, even though her parents had picked it because both the Japanese and Korean sides of their family would be able to pronounce it. _Akane_ was the name her grandmother had wanted for her.

"_Ah, there's just…a lot of memories here,_" she replied, giving her grandmother what she hoped was a convincing smile. It was the truth, though only a part of it.

"_Ee, lots of good memories._" Her grandmother gave her a tired smile. That's how she always looked, nowadays: tired. "_Those are the memories you need to hold onto, ne? No matter what happened…_"

"_Baa-san, all of my memories of you are good._" Mia flashed her grandmother a cheesy grin, setting the book down. She treaded over to the bed where her grandmother sat, her hands working slowly on what was probably going to be a scarf. Mia had gotten one every time she visited, when the antiquated little village would be under a thick blanket of snow and the Christmas festivities were far away, never quite migrating from the large cities to the countryside.

"_You're such a suck-up,"_ her grandmother said, the smirk looking not one bit out of place despite her old age. Mia feigned a pout, settling into the spot beside her.

"_Yes, well, respect your elders, and all that, ne, baa-san?_" To be honest, it had always been difficult to see her grandmother as _old_. She'd always been lively, full of snark and fascinating stories and energy. Now, though…

"_The most "respect" I got from you is an honorific and the occasional errand!_" A grin stretched across her face now, and though Mia laughed, she also felt so, incredibly sad. When everything fell apart, when her father passed away and her mother became estranged, Mia never saw a reason to visit her grandmother. She'd send the occasional letter, maybe a phone call every once in a while—but it had just been too painful.

The only reason she was back in Japan was because her grandmother's neighbour, a man who was her father's age—or the age he would be, if he was still alive—got a hold of her. _Your grandmother isn't doing so well, Akane-chan,_ he'd said, his voice low and sad. It was a small village, the kind where everyone knew everyone and they took care of each other. Everyone had known of Kurosawa Mayu's son and _her charming_ granddaughter._ You should come visit._ The remainder of that sentence remained unsaid, but Mia knew what it would have been; _one last time._

The countryside kept her grandmother in good health, but she was old. Her father had been the youngest of her children, his elder siblings having fought their way out of the tiny village to make more of a life for themselves before he'd even become an adult. They hardly found the time to visit, it seemed, and for the last seven years, Mia had left her grandmother alone, with only the dwindling population of the village to keep her company.

"_You said you didn't want me to make you feel old,"_ she finally said, trying her hardest to keep the tremor out of her voice.

"_Yeah, I could never decide if I should start taking advantage of that whole 'respect your elders' thing, if it meant giving my youth up._" Her grandmother sniffed dramatically, returning her attention to her knitting. Her eyes bore into the yarn, her forehead creased in concentration, and Mia knew the conversation was over—before it would turn into something less jovial and more depressing.

"_You know,_" Mia started, after a long moment of silently watching her grandmother knit. "_It's been three days and I still haven't had any of Makoto-san's curry. How does that sound for tonight's dinner, baa-san?_" She was feeling selfish all over again, finding ways to leave the house. _It's only long enough to clear my head,_ she told herself. _After all, tearing up in front of baa-san probably isn't a good idea._

"_I was wondering when you'd remember,_" her grandmother teased, not looking up from her knitting. "_At least you mentioned it before I start cooking._"

"_My timing is always impeccable, baa-san._" Mia stood from the couch, stretching her legs.

"_Just don't take too long, you know my hunger's timing is impeccable, too._" Snorting in laughter, Mia slipped out of the living room, switching on the lights in the hallway so that she could grab her bag.

The sky was already darkening as she made her way to the curry shop, the streets almost empty as families have shut in for the night, likely beginning dinner preparations. She could smell their cooking as she walked down the main street, towards one of the few restaurants that existed in the village.

It was completely dark out by the time she'd left the curry shop, the streets lit only by the light from within the houses. There was no use in putting up street lamps, not when most people stayed home. It was no wonder that the population was dwindling, with only the seniors remaining. Mia couldn't imagine spending a childhood here, with nothing to do in her free time except maybe swim at the lake past the outskirts of the village.

The lights in the living room and kitchen were on when Mia arrived at her grandmother's house, and though it was just such a small thing, it was enough to make Mia pause. Her grandmother was in the habit of turning the light off whenever she left a room; an old, retired woman living in the middle of nowhere, she would say, really didn't want to pay more for electricity than she needed to.

It occurred to Mia, as she treaded quietly towards the entrance of the house, that she might not have noticed such a small thing, if her train hadn't been hijacked only days before. Crime wasn't exactly a _thing_ in the remote mountain village, so Mia knew she shouldn't feel as wary as she did. The front door was still locked, as Mia had left it when she went to buy their dinner, but for a reason she couldn't yet put a finger on, it didn't reassure Mia, at all.

As quietly as she could, she slid the key in, grimacing at the sound of the tumblers grinding, likely rusted from disuse. This village was exactly the sort where people didn't lock their doors, even when they went to bed, and her grandmother had always chided Mia and her parents for doing it out of habit, whenever they visited.

When she entered the foyer, Mia saw shadows flit across the hallway, followed by a grunt and a thump—then, gunshots, fired through a silencer. Fear seized her, and but she forced herself in, leaving the bags of food at the door. She'd long figured out the creaky spots in the wooden floors when she'd visited as a teenager (she had been bored, and her family had been shut in due to a particularly nasty storm), and took care to avoid those spots.

When she reached the kitchen, she couldn't help but swear.

"_Language, Akane!_" her grandmother chided, looking nothing like the tired old woman she'd been only half an hour ago. She was standing in a combative position, a kitchen knife in one hand and her long, white hair starting to come out of its braid. There was blood on her clothes, blood on the floor, and two bodies lying motionless around her.

More startling, perhaps, were the five remaining men, dressed in black combat gear with their silenced guns aimed at her eighty-six year old grandmother.

And, to top it all off, a face Mia recognized immediately; the man from the train.

As she stood there, shocked into stillness, one of the armed men turned his gun toward her. It occurred to Mia, briefly, that she had nothing with which to protect herself. It also occurred to her that her grandmother, in the short amount of time for the man to switch his aim, had managed to disarm him. Mia heard a bone snap, and despite her fear, silently cheered her _baa-san_ on.

Another gun fired, but the bullet ricocheted, hitting the edge of the dining table. Cap-man (she was going to have to find something else to call him, soon) stood in the gunman's path, left arm held up, like it had been when he'd deflected the bullet from Mia, on the train. The fighting resumed, and all Mia could do was stay out of the way, trying to make sense of her grandmother's fighting technique, the intruders, and the fact that all of this was happening in her grandmother's kitchen.

Every once in a while, Mia would have to jump or roll out of the way as a body was thrown in her direction, and she'd managed to grab another knife out of the block, swiping it at ankles as the armed men walked too close. Even clutching the bloodied knife, though, she felt utterly, embarrassingly useless the entire time.

Finally, things slowed, and the remaining men in black were either unconscious, or very, quite dead. Mia watched as her grandmother pulled a gun out of the hands of one of her assailants, pointing its muzzle at the man from the train. He barely reacted, remaining perfectly still.

"Now's a good time to tell me why you're here, Winter Soldier."

Well, as if Mia didn't have enough surprises for the day.

Her grandmother didn't speak English. Mia was sure of that. She had only ever heard her grandmother string together a handful of words, and these phrases were not always coherent. She wouldn't even call Mia by her English name, for goodness' sake—and yet, her English here was perfect, fluent, with only a trace of what might have been an English accent.

_That_ surprised Mia more than the realization that the man from the train was the elusive Winter Soldier. After all, Mia had her suspicions; she's read the articles online, seen the footage, though at the time, she'd taken everything with a grain of salt. People liked to exaggerate, spin their own tales, after all. She's also had three whole days to replay the incident in her head, and that was more than enough time to draw some conclusions.

The man—the Winter Soldier—shifted his gaze to Mia, his brows dipping ever so slightly and his lips turning into a miniscule frown. He recognized her—but he hadn't expected her to be there. No, he was trying to work something out in his mind; Mia could see it in the rigidity in his jaw, the tension in his body. "I followed the HYDRA agents," he finally answered, gaze moving back to Mia's grandmother.

"Why?"

He was silent, frown deepening. "I…" He stopped, jaw working slightly as he tried to word his answer. "They are the enemy."

"You're their _asset._" Her grandmother said the word like it tasted of venom and hatred.

"Not anymore." His answers had been uncertain, before; lost. This time, he answered with resolve, hands closing into fists.

A tense silence followed, Mia's grandmother never looking away from the Winter Soldier. Mia had seen that look once before, though not with the same intensity. She had been sixteen; she'd brought a boyfriend with her to Japan. At the time, Mia had thought that her grandmother was simply playing the disapproving matriarch. Now, Mia realized she was only assessing him, trying to determine if she—and Mia—could trust him.

"You need to go." Her grandmother was talking to her now, the urgency in her voice startling Mia. "There will be more."

Cap-man…the Winter Soldier, nodded. "There were three teams."

Her grandmother swore. "You, take her and _go_." Talking to the man, now, waving the gun around to emphasize.

"What?" Mia's voice tore out of her throat like it hadn't been used in several years, and the question sounded more like a croak. "_Baa-san, what is going on? I'm not leaving._"

"_Didn't you hear him? There are two more teams of HYDRA agents coming. They'll tear this whole village apart if they have to._" Her grandmother was shooing her, now, pushing Mia out into the hallway. "_You need to leave, Akane!"_

"_You just said they'll destroy this place. Baa-san, there are innocent people, here. And you. I can't let them…_" She probably sounded stupid, but that didn't stop her. Mia knew she wouldn't hold up against agents from a terrorist organization like HYDRA, knew that if it hadn't been for cap-man—the Winter Soldier—she'd have died on that train. It didn't matter, though; this was her _grandmother_.

"_I know that there's a lot you don't understand; maybe you never will. But I need you to listen, okay?_" Her grandmother was talking quietly, now, but her voice remained stern, steady. Her hand closed over Mia's, and she was tugging her down the hall, into Mia's room. Mia was only vaguely away of the man—the _assassin_—behind them. "_You need to leave here. And that doesn't mean that you'll be safe. They…might come after you, too._" Her grandmother spoke patiently, stopping Mia in front of the closet and sliding the door open. She knew _baa-san_ was being calm for Mia's sake, but it only seemed to scare her, more.

Mia watched as her grandmother pushed aside bedding and boxes of photos and miscellaneous, dated electronics, retrieving a simple, wooden box from the very back. She held it out to Mia, who took it with shaking hands. "I need you to take this. They'll want it…HYDRA. You _need_ to keep it as far away from HYDRA as possible, got it?" As she spoke, _baa-san_ turned to address the man, whose silent presence was starting to unnerve Mia. Out of the corner of her eyes, Mia saw him nod.

"_I wish I didn't have to ask this of you…_" Her grandmother had switched back to Japanese, resting her hands over Mia's. She thought she saw tears in her _baa-san's_ eyes, but her grandmother blinked, and the tears were gone.

"_I don't understand…why won't you come with me, then? We can—_"

"_Akane, I'm old. I know, I don't look a day older than seventeen,"_ her grandmother added, smiling sadly, "_but the truth is that I'm old, and weak. You think an old lady like me can keep up with you? With __him__?"_ She motioned towards the Winter Soldier, who was perfectly still and watching them intently.

_"And __I__ can? I know I was a troublemaker when I was younger,_" her voice shook, but she somehow, miraculously, managed a smile. "_But__ I'm not like you…You…you were with SHIELD."_ It wasn't a hard deduction to make, and the deduction was confirmed correct when her grandmother nodded. Mia heard the Winter Soldier shift, and turning just slightly, she watched him tense. His face betrayed none of his thoughts, but Mia realized he'd caught the word "shield" in her string of Japanese.

"_I was,_" _baa-san_ conceded, and Mia heard just a smidge of pride in her voice. "_Technically, I retired. Sort of. Some things, though,"_ she waved a hand towards the wooden box, cradled in Mia's hands, "_they're a bit harder to shake off._"

Mia felt like this should, in some way, disturb her—at least, more than it seemed to at the moment. Her grandmother had been part of some secret organization, the kind that aligned themselves with Norse Gods and superheroes, the kind that had been infiltrated by a Nazi organization and ultimately fell to ruin.

Certainly, that was some cause for concern.

Instead, Mia just felt sort of…numb. She usually took things in stride, and apparently, this was no exception. The thing was—this wasn't rolling with the punches. This was like when her father died, and her mother left. This was shock, and grief, bewilderment and anger seizing her until she didn't know how to react to anything.

"_Besides,"_ her grandmother closed her hands around Mia's, grip firm and resolute, "_I'd rather go down fighting, than ill and sad in a hospital bed._"

Well, so much for taking things in stride.

The tears came before Mia could stop them, and she immediately felt embarrassed, naïve. Death was an inevitability, and Mia had come to Japan knowing it might be one of the last times she would see her _baa-san_—but _saying_ it, acknowledging it, had cemented that fact—never mind that Mia had believed her grandmother was simply getting old—not murdered. Her grandmother pulled her closer, throwing her arms around Mia and smothering the sounds of her crying. Her _kimono_—simple and faded and she liked to wear it in direct protest of Mia's modern fashion—smelled of family, home. It was familiar and comforting and all of those memories just became so overwhelming—

"They're here."

The words were spoken softly, and there was an instant where Mia wondered if the Winter Soldier had felt guilty for interrupting her mourning. That thought was quickly replaced with panic and fear. Her grandmother pulled her to a stand, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze, then pulled a duffle bag from beside the closet door, shoving that into Mia's arms.

"Go through the guest room." Hushed, rushed words, laced with dread and urgency. Her _baa-san_ nudged her towards the Winter Soldier, motioning with her chin in the direction of the third bedroom, once her parents'. "Go through the window—the trees there will give you cover."

The Soldier nodded, taking the safety off the handgun he held.

Mia didn't want to move. "What about you?"

"I'll distract them, kick their asses for intruding us." Her grandmother flashed her a wicked grin, before nudging Mia towards the Winter Soldier again. "Go! Don't open that box; it could alert HYDRA to where you are. You need to get to Tokyo—Jackson will find you, there."

"You called my _ex?!_" Jackson had been the first and only boyfriend Mia had brought to Japan with her; her _baa-san_ had warmed up to him after a few days, and had chided her for their break-up shortly after.

"I don't trust anyone else. Just…go!" Her grandmother nudged her again, this time with more force. Mia still refused to move though—or maybe she couldn't. She saw her grandmother give the Soldier a desperate look, and before she had time to interpret it, she felt his hand close around her wrist. Mia didn't have a chance to protest—or say goodbye—before he was pulling her down the hallway.

They disappeared behind the sliding door, and Mia heard her grandmother's footsteps heading in the opposite direction. Suddenly, that will to leave finally came to her. Mia didn't want to stay long enough to hear them murder her grandmother.

The Soldier, quite unforgivingly, pulled Mia across the room, towards the largest window on the opposite wall. Though the moon was full and bright that night, the window looked perfectly dark. True to her grandmother's words, shrubbery and trees shielded the window from view. The Soldier wrenched the window open, glancing over his shoulder at Mia before letting her go so that he could climb through. Wordlessly, Mia followed.

The sounds of the fight carried over to their side of the house, and Mia tightened her grip around the straps of the duffle bag, her knuckles turning white and her palms burning as her nails dug into flesh. _Baa-san_ was not holding back this time, no longer caring if the noise caught the attention of their neighbours. Mia tried to swallow her fear, her mourning, but her vision blurred and she knew the tears were returning.

Then, before she had to cover her mouth to stifle crying, the Winter Soldier grabbed her arm, and off they went again. They wound around the nearest homes, staying crouched and within the shadows. Mia wasn't keeping track of their direction, but the Soldier seemed to know where he was going. Soon enough, the flat, cultivated land and houses and farms disappeared, giving way to a lush forest.

They only stopped when they were well out of the borders of the village, so deep in the woods that any sign of human habitation were gone. Mia resigned to leaning against a tree, her legs burning and her arms cramped from carrying the box and her duffle bag. Every breath tore out of her lungs, feeling like acid. Sure, Mia was…fit. Mostly. She hit the gym , every once in a while; during school, she'd dog-sit for spending money, taking on aggressive and high energy breeds other dog-sitters didn't want to deal with…and they kept her pretty active, alright.

None of that was really preparation for running through the woods, jumping over fallen logs and avoiding ditches and low branches, while hoping she was fast enough to escape HYDRA agents.

"We need to keep moving." The Soldier's voice was impatient, agitated, and Mia whipped around to glare at him, a heated reminder that she wasn't a trained assassin, sitting on her tongue. She swallowed the words before they had a chance to leave her lips, though; the severe look he was giving her shut her up well enough.

"One. Sec," she managed to bite out, taking in gulps of air even though they burned. "Okay, fine now." Mia straightened to a stand, trying to look less like she wanted to just curl up and sleep for the next year or two. "We can't just keep going further into the woods, though—_baa-san_…wanted us to get to Tokyo. We need to find a way to get there."

The Winter Soldier eyed her, but Mia couldn't quite read his expression. After all, his face hardly changed when it wasn't twisted with exertion from fighting. She surmised that the Soldier might only have two emotions outside of mission-mode: distrust and mild irritation. "We were headed north from the village. Six miles." Clipped words, spoken in a low voice; Mia would have felt ridiculous, like they were kids playing at secret agents, if that wasn't so close to the truth.

Mia's forehead creased as she attempted to recall a mental map of the area. The village was surrounded by a thick forest, its only access from anywhere with civilization was a road that wound from the south towards the east, where it continued until it cut through the nearest town, a half hour's drive away. The forest provided better cover—Mia didn't have to be a tactical genius to realize that—but it also meant their journey to Tokyo would only be so much longer. The Soldier might be more adept at surviving without civilization, but Mia certainly wasn't. She had no idea what as in that duffle bag, but it wasn't big or heavy enough to have been packed with survival gear for longer than a few days.

"We should head south-east. There's a road there; we could hitch a ride or something, get to the train station," Mia suggested, quietly watching the Soldier's face. She braced herself for his disapproval, and had to hide her surprise when he seemed to contemplate her suggestion.

"There's less cover, there," he finally said, "we should stay in the woods until there is an opportunity." The Soldier looked past Mia, scanning the woods. Mia tensed, her hands feeling clammy and she worried she'd drop the box. The trees in this stretch of woods were ancient, large and grand but spaced widely apart, and anyone within two hundred feet of their position might still be able to spot them, even in the darkness. It also meant that they would be able to see their attackers coming—hopefully. At least there was that.

Mia couldn't see anything except for the brief flutter of owls' wings, so just to be sure, she turned to watch the Soldier. He remained perfectly still except for the movement of his eyes, and his expression remained blank except for the crease in his brow. Finally, his body seemed to relax—only slightly—and he turned to Mia with a curt nod. "We head east from here, then south tomorrow." Without another word or glance, the Winter Soldier turned towards their right, moving without waiting for Mia. At least he wasn't running.

Half-heartedly glaring at the Soldier's back, Mia quickly unzipped the duffle bag, shoving the wooden box in without looking at the bag's contents. When she looked up again, the Soldier was still walking. She huffed in agitation, closed the bag and hurried to keep up with the Soldier's pace.

Apparently, they had no need to run, though both Mia and the Winter Soldier seemed to believe that they should avoid moving closer to the village. She wouldn't admit it to anyone, much less the Soldier, but Mia might have actually preferred the running. She was pretty sure that the whole 'exercise releases endorphins!' business was a lie, despite having studied biology in university—but tiresome exercise that pushed Mia past her limit _did_ in fact do something for her: distract.

They were practically _meandering_ now, winding through the trees at an almost pleasant pace. This did wonders for Mia's sore legs—but her mind was a maelstrom of grief, fear, and absolute bewilderment.

_Stop thinking about it. Stop thinking about it. Stop thinking about it._ Mia thought repeating something enough times might at least push other thoughts out of her mind. It didn't work though; she'd be distracted by a passing bird, the way the Soldier would stop and scan their surroundings, the weight of the bag in her hand. Every so often, that mantra would stop, and Mia's thoughts would instantly flit to the events leading up to their mad dash into the woods.

Mia's eyes bore into the Soldier's back, but she wasn't really looking at him, nor past him. He was just a beacon, pulling her along in the same path while her mind was elsewhere. When he stopped, suddenly, Mia almost walked into him. In the back of her mind, Mia was relieved she'd managed to stop before she did. The Soldier didn't look particularly soft, and Mia imagined that running into his back like she'd almost done might feel the same as running into a brick wall.

If he'd noticed her near misstep, the Soldier didn't show it. He paused to take another look of their surroundings, before finally turning around, confirming that he _hadn't_ forgotten Mia. "We can stop here for the night," he said, simply, before moving off to sit (brood) on a fallen tree.

Mia must have remained still for a long time, because the Soldier looked up at her, brows furrowing as if confused. Promptly, Mia found a seat of her own at the base of a large tree. Seemingly satisfied, the Soldier looked away again, his gaze ever-sweeping across the woods. The darkness was deeper now, the foliage thicker and the air tasted of earth and musk.

Resigned to the awkward silence, Mia pulled her phone out of her pocket, peeling off the back cover and removing the battery, before pulling the duffle bag onto her lap, unzipping it slowly to avoid being too loud. Carefully, Mia removed the wooden box before peering into the bag. Mia had no idea when her grandmother had packed this, but it hadn't been done in a hurry. Its contents were neatly laid out, organized.

A light jacket was folded neatly over some thick leggings. A flashlight was tucked into the space between the pile of clothes and the side of the bag, in addition to an outdated flip-phone in a plastic bag with its battery beside it. _Disposable_, Mia surmised, _so it'll be harder to trace._

There were also some packets of what might have been army rations, a large bottle of water and a small metal pot wrapped in plain shirts and stuffed with underwear. There was a roll of cash, shoved into the corner. Mia didn't bother taking it out to count.

At the bottom; a note.

It was on regular lined paper, with one edge torn as if it had been pulled from a notebook. Even in the darkness, Mia could recognize the neat, thin scrawls of her grandmother's handwriting. She looked away with a start, pressing her lips firmly together so that she wouldn't start crying. Out of the corner of her eyes, Mia saw the Soldier turn towards her, probably looking curious but unconcerned. She couldn't tell, not at that distance, and not in this darkness. She could only hope that the Soldier couldn't see her face clearly, either, not as she was fighting back the urge to curl up and bawl until her head hurt.

She should read the note, even though she really didn't want to. Mia didn't really understand the mechanisms of grief, the way little things could suddenly trigger tears and memories. They'd been awful, the thoughts she had and the things she felt as they'd begun their slower journey east—but that was nothing like the way her chest tightened, now, the way heat and ice simultaneously snaked through her limbs, or the way her hands became so numb she could hardly keep a hold of the note.

_I should read the note,_ she thought again, with a little more force.

The breath Mia pulled in as she unfolded the note was shaky, wheezy, and apparently pathetic enough to earn her a puzzled look from the Soldier. Ignoring him, Mia brought the note close, squinting to read the Japanese scrawled onto the lined page.

_Akane,_

_First, I want to apologize, even though I know it will never be enough. You must understand that like many secrets, these have been kept to protect you, to distance you from SHIELD and the monsters they fight. I would have never exposed this to you or asked this of you unless I had no choice. I hope you know me enough to understand this._

_I hope to keep this short, as I know you will not have much time to spare. I suspect that with what happened in DC, HYDRA will want to rebuild what's left of their power…which means they'll be after what I have. I've destroyed what I could, but you'll need to protect what's left. What I've trusted you with is powerful, and even just opening it may be enough to alert HYDRA; never do it unless necessary. I don't know when they'll find me, but if they're desperate, it won't be long until they do. I've managed to stay under the radar this long only because both SHIELD and HYDRA had bigger, more important things to worry about. With both agencies in shambles…_

_I contacted Jackson as soon as I could. As I understand the two of you are still on good terms; you'll need him. He's promised to help you in whatever way he can. I wish I didn't have to endanger you two like this…but Akane, you're strong. You're strong and brave and you've always had a fight in you that made me so proud, even when you were being a petulant child. _

_I don't think I have to tell you not to trust anyone except for Jackson. Not even SHIELD; I had my suspicions when I left, and I hated that I was right. I don't know how much of what's left is HYDRA. I protected this secret, this relic, for decades…I'm afraid you might have to do the same. _

_I'm so sorry, Akane._

_I love you._

If Mia thought she would have been able to keep the tears at bay before, then she'd only just proven herself wrong. She held the letter away before her tears could ruin the message, bringing her free hand to her face, pressing it against her eyes. She was sure the Soldier was looking at her again, but Mia couldn't see him, and she didn't care. What was she even crying for? The loss of her grandmother? Her loss of normalcy? The fact that her grandmother had left her to hide some top secret _relic_ and in the hands (one of which was _metal_) of a HYDRA-trained assassin? Maybe all of that, all at once.

At least Mia had the control to keep the crying quiet, muffled by her hand. She faintly heard the Soldier shift, worn fabric over dry bark, but she made no effort to turn further away from him.

Only moments later, Mia managed to bottle up her emotions, the tears eventually coming to a stop. She swiped her free hand over her eyes, rubbing them until they were dry. When she looked up, Mia found the Soldier looking at her, and if everything—mind and body—wasn't hurting, Mia might have laughed at the thinly veiled bewilderment on his face. He absolutely didn't seem like the kind of guy who knew how to deal with a crying girl.

"I'm fine," she said, even though her voice had become raspy.

The Winter Soldier didn't look terribly convinced, his gaze falling from Mia's face to the note, still clutched in her hand.

"Instructions…sort of." Drawing a shuddering breath, Mia smoothed out the note, hand hovering for a moment as she wondered if it was a good idea to let the Soldier read it. The decision was made for her when the Soldier simply nodded and looked away, once again staring into the forest. With his attention off her, Mia found it in her to relax, just a little. She folded the note, tucking it carefully into the duffle bag.

The skin beneath her eyes felt tight and her hands still numb, but Mia forged on, pulling the jacket out of its pile and over her shoulders. She'd been wearing little more than a t-shirt and jeans when they'd left, and though it was still the height of summer, the mountain air was frigid at night. Mia could already see frost forming on the underbrush and grass.

A fire might have been nice—but Mia had no intentions of drawing attention to their position, even if it was a straggling hiker. She resigned to curling up, knees drawn to her chest, and hoping that the temperature wouldn't continue the drop. Not surprisingly, the Winter Solder didn't seemed at all fazed by the cold. He glanced at her again when he caught her looking at him, and Mia straightened, feeling at once threatened and embarrassed.

"Why did you…" Her voice shook, and she felt almost angry with herself. The Soldier kept staring at her, looking almost patient, though Mia thought that might just be her feeling delusional after a difficult day. "Why did you help _baa-san_? And why did you help me?" She didn't know if he'd intended to protect her on the train, but he didn't seem to have a second thought before doing what her grandmother asked, taking Mia and getting her out of harm's way.

Mia watched as he worked his jaw, his brows knitting together. "HYDRA is a mutual enemy," he answered simply. Mia waited, but he didn't elaborate. Though it wasn't exactly the best answer, it seemed to be all she was getting. Without other options, Mia resettled into her spot, turning her gaze away from the intensity of the Winter Soldier's stare.

The tightness around her eyes turned into heavy eyelids, and though Mia had resolved to do her part and keep watch, the silence of the mountains and her own exhaustion quickly lulled her to sleep. Her last thoughts were of her grandmother, her parents, dinner around the _kotatsu_, and all the things she'll never, ever have again.


	3. Chapter 3

Red

chapter three

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><p><em>"<em>We can spend our lives letting the world tell us who we are [...] Or we can decide for ourselves<em>"_

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><p>Three days since she'd arrived at her grandmother's house, and Mia still felt bizarrely disconnected. She'd only woken up when the train stopped, watching warily as passengers trickled out. She hadn't seen any police, military, reporters; absolutely no sig<p>

Unlike the novels and the movies, Mia woke up knowing exactly where she was. There was no way she could have been comfortable enough to fall into a deep sleep—in fact, it barely felt like she'd been asleep at all. She must have slept through the night, though, or half-slept, teetering on the precipice over sleep but never quite falling in. The old tree was just doing _wonders_ for her back and Mia was fairly certain there were a handful of dents and bruises in the back of her thighs in the shape of various twigs and pebbles.

When she opened her eyes, Mia was almost sure she'd be alone, that the Soldier had simply ditched her. After all, while he might think of Hydra as his enemy, that didn't make Mia his ally. She should have counted herself lucky that he hadn't killed her already.

Much to Mia's surprise, the Soldier was still there, idly taking stock of his ammunition. He only looked up briefly when Mia moved, returning to his task without a word. She appreciated the gesture, if it was even intentional at all; it gave her just enough privacy to make sure she didn't look like the mess she felt like.

Gently, Mia patted down her hair, running her fingers through the tangles, before realizing that a braid would probably be her best friend at this point. She wove through the braid with deft fingers, securing the end with one of the three hair elastics Mia always kept around her wrist. That was about all she could do to help her appearance, though she knew her eyes must still be puffy and her clothing crumpled.

When she unzipped the jacket, now that the temperature had returned to its usual summer state, the Winter Soldier finally glanced up at her. Not meeting his gaze, Mia haphazardly folded the jacket, cramming it back into the duffle bag. With the bag zipped up and everything else secure, Mia finally looked up.

"How far is the road?" Like before, the man's voice was raspy from disuse, monotone and disinterested.

"It's about three miles east of the village…there's a little dirt bypass that runs right into the village, but there's still a fair distance between the road and the nearest house." Mia paused, trying to draw a path from their position to the road. "We _should_ catch sight of it if we head due south…I'm guessing four miles." She pressed her lips into a thin line, hoping to voice her uncertainty without outright saying it. She spent several weeks a year in these mountains for more than half of her life, but it had never occurred to Mia to memorize the layout in case her life depended on it.

She saw the Soldier's eyes narrow, just slightly, but he nodded, standing. Following his cue, Mia pushed herself off the ground, making a face as her limbs protested. This is what she got for sleeping while sitting so strangely. The Soldier paid her no mind, walking off without looking at her. Mia had to jog to catch up to him.

She lingered behind him, frowning at his back as they trudged on in silence. It was much warmer now, but he still wore that dingy, dirty jacket. The heat barely seemed to affect him—not that _anything_ seemed to affect him. She knew it was because of his arm—the metal one. Was he simply hiding it because it would give him away immediately?

That was, of course, not a subject to be easily broached, and Mia kept her questions silent. She resolved to keeping at a respectful distance behind the Winter Soldier, trying to occupy herself with random observations about the wildlife around them so as to not fall into that pit of despair again. She was in the middle of counting the appearance of squirrels when she noticed something off about the Soldier.

His stride, when they'd set off, had been brisk, steady. Mia hadn't noticed until now how their pace had slowed, how the Soldier's gait seemed to waver, how he'd pause every once in a while as if to steady himself. Frowning, Mia attempted to swallow her trepidation, and in spite of her caution, she quickened her pace until she was beside the Soldier.

She hadn't really noticed his pallor when she'd first woken up, the darkness of the skin around his eyes. He turned to look at her, eyes half-lidded, and Mia suddenly recognized that look. Her roommate in university had looked the same during a particularly hectic exam week, when she had back to back exams crammed into a measly four days and had taken to staying up all night to study.

"Did you sleep at all last night?" Mia murmured, really more to herself than to the Soldier. His brows furrowed and Mia gaped. "How the _hell_ are you functioning?" Had he looked this tired last night? Mia wasn't in the mindset to have seen it—but he must have been _exhausted_ by the time he'd arrived at her _baa-san's_ house. The fight, the running—none of that had done any favours to his energy levels at all.

"We'll find the road in the afternoon—you need to rest." Mia hadn't meant to sound like she was barking orders, but she saw the Soldier flinch.

"I don't. We need to keep moving." The Soldier narrowed his eyes into a glare, and Mia saw his shoulders square, like he was puffing up for a fight. Admittedly, with a face like his and a superhuman metal arm, he was intimidating even without the effort.

Mia, though, wasn't so easily daunted—well, not all the time. Not when her nerves were already wrought and she was tired, and grieving and she didn't need another thing to go wrong. Patience was not one of her virtues, especially not after everything that's happened. "Are you trying to intimidate me? You know, it'll work better if you didn't look like crap."

Mia should have been surprised with the confidence in her voice, the way it rang clear and sharp over the tranquil quiet of the forest—but she was in authority-mode, now. "If we're going to live through this, you're going to need rest. Your brain needs it, your body needs it." The Winter Soldier remained silent, and Mia became exasperated. "You couldn't even walk in a straight line—how are you going to stay hidden or fight Hydra agents?"

The Soldier tightened his jaw—Mia was right, even if he won't admit it out loud.

"Just…nap, alright? I'll keep watch. We're deep enough in the woods, anyway." Mia's tone softened, until she felt like she was a pre-school teacher trying to convince a child to nap with the other kids. Whether she was convincing enough or the Soldier finally realized just how tired he was—Mia watched him deflate, a little, shoulders drooping. He gave the forest one last scan before moving to sit at the base of a tree.

His eyes remained on Mia the entire time, staring at her pointedly. She gave him an encouraging, albeit slightly patronising smile, as he lowered himself to the ground, leaning against the tree as she had the previous night. Looking extremely reluctant as he did, the Soldier closed his eyes, and Mia found herself a perch on a large, smooth boulder.

Mia had all of ten minutes to herself before the Soldier straightened up, eyes opening.

"That's not a nap," she remarked, frowning at him.

"I can't sleep." It was a simple statement, but the way he'd said it, jaw clenching and face paling even more— he wasn't annoyed with her. Mia could see it, the way he folded in on himself; it was frustration towards himself.

_Oh._

She'd seen the conspiracy theories that had emerged once more information about what happened in DC had been leaked (or, supposedly leaked…Mia made a habit of remaining skeptical). Most people thought "The Winter Soldier" was merely a title, passed down to the next assassin once the previous once had died. Others, alluding to the case of Captain America, suggested the Soldier had been cryogenically frozen, taken out to thaw whenever Hydra needed to strike someone off their list.

If the latter was true—had he _ever_ had a natural sleep?

"You have to try," Mia said, quietly. "People can't function without sleep."

The Soldier shook his head, face bearing a confused and horrified expression that made Mia's chest tighten. "I…I've never…" That impassive, glowering façade shattered, and the Soldier looked so…lost.

Mia was right. She didn't want to be right, not this time.

"Just close your eyes, relax your body. Don't think of anything too taxing—"

"No. That leaves me vulnerable." Mia flinched at the ferocity in his voice, and he glanced up at her, looking almost apologetic.

"I'll wake you up if anything happens." His silence told Mia that he didn't trust her to do that, so she quickly added, "I had your back, on the train."

That was enough to give him pause, and finally, slowly, he resettled, eyes closing again. Mia waited, tense, but his breathing seemed to slow, and the tension left his body. His chin rested on his chest, though his arms remain crossed and Mia had a feeling his hand was strategically hovering just over the handgun tucked into a holster on his hip.

Satisfied that the Winter Soldier had settled, Mia occupied herself with vigilantly keeping watch of their surroundings. Her gaze snapped to every movement, her breaths coming out slow and quiet so that she could catch every sound. Though she was sure that the Soldier was far better at keeping watch than she, Mia liked to think that she wasn't half bad at it, either.

In any case, keeping watch and concentrating on the sounds around her was a lot less stressful than being left to her own thoughts. It also meant that when the Soldier stirred, Mia noticed immediately. She frowned, thinking that he was waking up again, only to see the crease in his brow, the way his entire body tensed and his lips twisted as if in agony. His eyes remained closed.

Mia watched him for a few more minutes, feeling suddenly very uncomfortable—like she was a voyeur to his trauma. She didn't need her personal experiences to tell her that the Winter Soldier was having nightmares—bad ones, from the way his body coiled and twisted. His breathing became frantic and though something in the back of her mind told her it was probably a very, very bad idea, Mia stood up, treading slowly toward him.

His fingers twitched and beneath the sleeve of his jacket, Mia could see the muscles of his arm jump. She wondered how violent those dreams were—_what_ those dreams were of. Slowly, gently, she touched her fingers to his shoulder. She'd barely brushed the fabric of his coat before his eyes opened and his hand shot out, closing around her throat. Mia didn't have the chance to cry out as he flipped her around so that she was on the ground, against the tree, and his body loomed over her.

His eyes were wide, frenzied, his jaw clenched tightly—until something seemed to _click_, and the hand he had on Mia's throat—thankfully not the metal one—retracted. She couldn't read the expression on his face, but she thought she saw something like conflict, something like guilt.

"You shouldn't have done that," he stated, simply. There was no accusation in his voice, or anger. It was level, monotone, and just as unreadable as his face.

"Sorry," Mia murmured, silently congratulating for not stammering. Her heart was still thumping ferociously against her ribs and she felt the phantom pressure of his fingers around her throat. "You were having nightmares…" she added slowly, looking furtively at his face, gauging his reaction.

He narrowed his eyes at her, but pushed away. "We keep moving." Like what just happened didn't actually happen, the Soldier stood, turning away.

"Not yet." Mia stood, too, taking a step toward him but deciding, quite smartly, not to get too close. "You've barely slept for half an hour."

The Soldier paused, straightening, the muscles in his back pulling taut. "It was enough."

Mia wanted to argue, but there was just something in the way he said it—nothing so obvious like his tone of voice or choice of words, but something more subtle that Mia easily picked up on but couldn't tell what it was—told her exactly _why_ she should just shut up and accept it.

They journeyed in silence, the sun now directly above them, sending dappled light over the forest floor and their shoulders. Mia could feel the heat rising from the ground, that musk of earth and trees growing stronger and thicker. It must have been high noon when Mia realized she couldn't simply trudge through the forest; she needed not just rest, but food and water. Mostly food, if that loud and obnoxious growl from her stomach was any indication.

The Soldier paused, turning slowly to face her. His face remained absolutely neutral but that didn't stop Mia's cheeks from colouring.

Her stomach growled again, and—she was _sure_ he was just teasing her, now—the Soldier glanced around, as if to make sure they weren't heard.

"I'm hungry," Mia stated, almost petulantly. The last decent meal she'd had was lunch, yesterday. She…didn't really have a chance to eat dinner. The thought twisted her stomach, and the hunger was momentarily forgotten, replaced with something much hollower.

Until her stomach growled again.

Finally, a break in the Soldier's passive expression. He arched an eyebrow, undoubtedly amused. In spite of her rather dire situation and stony companion, Mia pouted, just slightly. "Making fun of me isn't going to make the growling stop," she warned, the sound of her voice apparently a cue for her stomach to protest again. The Soldier kept staring at her, and Mia almost swore she saw his lips twitch into a smirk. "Look, it's lunch time, okay?"

The Winter Soldier reached into a pocket, and much to her surprise, his hand emerged clutching a packaged granola bar. He flicked it in her direction, and Mia caught it, gaping slightly. She eyed the bar, raising a brow at the label. "You don't seem like the kind of guy who hoards 'Greek-yogurt dipped protein granola bars'," she mused, already tearing at the foil packaging. The Soldier's brows dipped, and his lips formed something like a mild scowl. Mia felt slightly vindicated.

She'd finally managed to get the thing open when she noticed the Soldier remaining perfectly motionless. Mia frowned. "You're not having one, too?"

He didn't answer, and at first, she wondered if he was actually worried his masculinity would be damaged for eating a yogurt-dipped granola bar. Then, she realized it didn't make sense, because he'd had it on him to begin with, and Mia couldn't imagine he'd snatched it from wherever he'd snatched it, especially for her.

"This…is your last one, isn't it?" Her gaze dropped to the granola bar, and feeling guilty, she held it out to him. "Have it."

"I gave it to you." The Soldier didn't budge, and Mia's frown deepened. It was always clipped sentences with him, and she was starved to know more—so, what if he gave it to her? She had only just opened it, hadn't even touched it. Wasn't he hungry? When was the last time he ate?

_Probably the last time he slept,_ Mia realized.

"Look, I'm hungry…but I at least had two meals yesterday." _Didn't have a chance to have the third,_ a mournful voice in the periphery of her mind reminded her. She ignored it. "You need this more than I do."

"I don't." Curt, simple, without explanation—and it was starting to frustrate Mia. She wasn't always much of a talker—she had on and off days—but with the maelstrom of hurt and grief threatening to bleed into her foremost thoughts, Mia could really do with more conversation, and she didn't care if she was getting annoyed with a trained assassin—never mind one who'd throttled her for waking him up.

Setting her lips into an agitated, thin line, Mia broke the granola bar in half, shoving one part into her mouth and holding out the second part, still in the wrapper, to the Soldier. He glanced at it, then back at her, but didn't take it. Clenching her jaw, Mia stomped over, holding the remaining piece up to the Soldier's face. She took the piece out of her mouth with her free hand, squared her shoulders. "Stop being so stubborn and just eat the damn granola bar."

The Soldier's eyebrows almost disappeared into his hairline. She was much smaller than he was, with a petite build and she was much shorter—he probably hadn't expect that sort of ferocity in her. Wordlessly, he took the granola bar from her hand, lifted it on her mouth, and popped the bar in. He chewed it slowly, eyes never leaving Mia even when it sort of unnerved her.

He swallowed, and even opened his mouth to show her that he did. Mia had to wonder if that display was taunting, the way a child might overdramatically complete his chores when his mother's nagging became too much to bear—or if it was habit, proving to his superiors that he'd followed his orders to a T. They called him the Winter _Soldier_, after all. Coupled with the constantly confused and conflicted expressions on his face, the severe sleep deprivation and lack of proper food—just _what_ did HYDRA do to create their Winter Soldier?

Wilting under his once-again neutral, stony expression, Mia brought her piece of the bar to her mouth, nibbling on it almost distractedly. The Soldier turned, apparently mission accomplished, and resumed their brisk pace. He'd crumpled the wrapper, shoving it into his pocket. She was certain it was to prevent a trail forming than out of environmental awareness, though.

It wasn't long until they saw the road ahead. The asphalt was cracked and neglected, weeds growing between fragments of the road. It wasn't that well-traveled, but it must have been a while since anyone bothered to do some repairs from the decades of use. The Soldier went ahead, stopping as the trees began to thin. Mia took the spot beside him, making sure to remain behind the cover of the trees.

"It could be a while until someone drives up here," she murmured, gaze sweeping up and down the empty road.

"Then we'll walk."

"Uh, _no_." Mia frowned. "It's a three hour _drive_ between here and the train station. It'll take ages to walk—and we don't have enough food even for another day. Or, as a matter of fact, energy." She caught just a slight shift in the Soldier's expression, but she couldn't tell if it was just annoyed with her _human_ needs, or annoyed with the fact that he had them, too. Probably both. "We can wait here; it's the only way to Tsuyama from Tokyo—someone's going to pass by. Just….eventually."

Mia peered anxiously at the Winter Soldier's face, knowing he probably disapproved of her rather passive strategy. The thing was—Mia was _tired_, and she knew the Soldier must be, too, even if he didn't realize or want to admit it. She wasn't sure how long she would last if they walked all the way to the station, especially because it would likely be in complete and agonizing silence. It wouldn't hurt to hang around here—they were far enough from the village, and they should be able to stay out of sight well enough, so long as they keep an ear out for a passing vehicle.

The Soldier regarded her for a long moment, before apparently relenting. He grunted, moving off to find a perch. Mia followed, finding a soft patch of grass to sit on across from the Soldier. She couldn't keep herself from watching him as he turned his eyes to the road, then to the forest behind him. His body remained coiled, his jaw clenched and his hand never far from the handgun. Mia remembered seeing some of the footage from DC, blurry clips of the Winter Soldier in his full combat regale.

Even with the scruffy beard and ill-fitting, dingy clothes, he was imposing, silent and simmering with violence. It was a miracle Mia wasn't absolutely terrified of him, let alone brave (or stupid) enough to counter him whenever her irritation reached a certain threshold. Granted, that wasn't something she could really help, even when a voice in the back of her mind told her that it was a _really_ bad habit.

"What are you even doing in Japan?" she asked, her voice seeming to echo in the silence, even though she kept it hushed. The Soldier glanced at her, brow creasing just slightly. He remained silent for a long time, until Mia felt like squirming put of awkwardness.

"Hiding," he finally said, slowly as if testing the word.

Mia first felt surprised—at the fact that he'd bothered answering, and at the answer itself. Then, she felt curiosity. "From the American government?" In the months following what happened on DC, almost all that was on the news were replays and commentary on the attack, and General Talbot's insistent (and, as time wore on, tiresome) tirade against SHIELD. The Winter Soldier was a fugitive now, probably worth more than every former SHIELD or HYDRA agent.

The Soldier nodded. "And HYDRA." His left hand closed into a tight fist.

Mia's brows furrowed. She was pretty sure she recalled the Soldier mentioning he'd followed the HYDRA agents to her grandmother's house. As if reading her mind—or perhaps her expression, the Soldier elaborated, "they're fewer here. Weaker."

"So you tracked them down...to foil their plans...?" Mia didn't mean to sound skeptical, but now that she had the opportunity to talk about it, there were a lot of pieces didn't fit—and that bothered her. When he shot her an irritated glare, Mia held her hands up in defence. "Not that I'm not grateful," she added hastily. "I'm just...confused."

The Soldier remained silent, looking away from her. Mia pursed her lips and settled into her grass patch when she thought the conversation was over. Her eyes returned to the road, hands wringing uneasily.

"They are the enemy," the Soldier said suddenly, startling Mia. The Winter Soldier wasn't looking at her, his gaze downcast, conflicted. Mia hadn't heard it before, when he'd said the same words to her grandmother, but she definitely heard it, now: pain.

Mia was sympathetic, almost enough to want to put her arms around him—though she wasn't sure if he'd like that. Were those online posts right, then? Not just about the cryogenic stasis but the conspirational, sensational posts about engineering an assassin, inhumane experiments, and Soviet brainwashing and torture. She almost wanted to ask, which one was true? But of course, she couldn't bring herself to, not with the way the Soldier seemed to close in on himself every time his time with HYDRA was brought up.

"So, you followed them onto the train?" she asked instead.

He nodded. "Then I intercepted orders for more teams to be sent to the Shizuoka village." Mia flinched, feeling slightly ill at the mention of her grandmother's village. It wasn't new information, not really—but Mia hadn't quite reconciled the fact that her _baa-san_ had been an agent of SHIELD, and that she was being targeted by HYDRA. She was surprised to see the Soldier watching her with something close to sympathy, though expression was gone quickly, and Mia began doubting he'd had the look at all.

"Well, I guess you managed to foil their plans, after all," Mia mused mirthlessly, nodding to the duffle bag holding that mysterious wooden box. The Soldier nodded, but regarded her with yet another one of his impassive, impossible-to-read expressions. Mia frowned, "what?"

"You're relaxed," he said, simply.

Mia's frown deepened, her brows knitting together in confusion. "I'm flinching at every bunny hop and bird chirp…I don't see how that's 'relaxed'."

The only break in the Soldier's guarded expression is a slight frown. "But not at me." There was something else in that voice, veiled behind his monotone words.

Mia remained confused for another long moment, _well, yeah, 'cause—oh_. She trusted the Soldier—to some degree, anyway. She might have felt a little terrified of him, wary, but Mia realized most of that was gone, now. It was like she knew he was dangerous; he was the Winter Soldier, a HYDRA assassin, armed with a handgun and a metal arm—but at the same time, it hardly clicked that that would be an issue for her. She looked up at him, silently trying to ask if that was a mistake she was making. He remained motionless, though, staring at her until she wanted to look away.

"My grandmother trusted you," she finally said, trying to come up with a reason for her naivety. "You tried to help her. And you saved me from HYDRA, on the train." All of it was true; she supposed they were enough reasons to believe that he wasn't here to kill her.

The Soldier nodded, looking almost perplexed, like he didn't know why he did those things. _Well, that's a little troubling,_ Mia admitted, suddenly feeling the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. "It was…" he licked his lips, mulling over the words, "the right thing to do." The Soldier said it with such finality, so decisively, it almost seemed like he was reminding himself, a mantra he was repeating in his head. He'd given her a different answer before, Mia could remember. For some reason, this answer seemed more sincere.

Mia nodded, managing a smile. "Yeah, it was. Thanks."

The Soldier looked up at her, his mask finally crumbling into a look of surprise. Mia felt that prickle of sympathy again; he shouldn't be surprised someone was thanking him—surely, _someone_ had thanked him, even if it was for something not-so-nice…? Suddenly uncomfortable, Mia cleared her throat, trying to come up with a change of topic, quickly. She didn't want the conversation to end—there was no telling how long they'd have to wait until a car passed by, and Mia wasn't sure how she could deal with the silence.

"So, uh…we were never really introduced," she finally said, unable to hide the awkwardness in her voice. The Soldier arched a brow, no doubt able to hear it, and Mia dared to believe that he found it slightly amusing. "I'm Mia," she said, shifting uncomfortably under his stare. She felt like she should hold out a hand to shake, but they were too far apart, and it seemed kind of ridiculous in this situation.

The Soldier's brows dipped. "I thought your name is Akane."

"Only _baa-san_ calls me that," Mia replied, perhaps a little too sadly, because a look of guilt flickered over the Soldier's face. "She said it's 'cause I was crying so loudly when I was born, my face was completely red." Mia tried to smile, presenting the little piece of memory to show that she was alright with it. She wasn't sure if she was, but she thought she could fake it until she made it. "Akane means madder—it's a plant where natural red dye comes from." She made a face, "kind of a weird thing to want to name a kid, right?"

To her utmost surprise, the Soldier managed a smile—small, awkward, and little forced, but it was there, all the same. She appreciated the effort, anyhow, even though he seemed to struggle with it. The smile disappeared, though, the moment Mia asked for his name. The muscles of his face strained, his brows knitting closer together. Mia's shoulders dropped, her good-natured smile falling. She still didn't know how much of those internet theories had any truth in them. When she did come across them, Mia had rolled her eyes at how far-fetched it all seemed. She hadn't even considered what it meant if those theories were true, how awful it was.

"James." The sudden sound of the Soldier's voice startled her, and Mia looked up at him. He wasn't looking at her, eyes on the toes of his boots, his hands clasped together. "James Buchanan Barnes." It almost looked like he was trying to remind himself, like putting on a suit when he was used to t-shirts and sweats—or, more aptly, when he was used to combat gear.

Mia smiled, softly, though he couldn't see. "James," she said, barely above a whisper. He looked up at her. "Nice to meet you."


End file.
